Irony, Fantastic
by squalmasy
Summary: [Oneshot] In which a friend's playedout fantasy holds secret truths and unconventional love will always be just that painful. RikuSora


_What's with me lately? Me and my angst. I personally think this story is kind of sad, but it makes the point I wanted to make. (sigh) Why can't I get over this phase and just write senseless yaoi again?_

_Disclaimer: Don't own 'em_

_Irony, Fantastic  
(One-Shot) In which a friend's played-out fantasy holds secret truths and unconventional love will always be just that painful. RikuSora_

* * *

One cold, storming afternoon finds the Destiny Islanders indoors, a place islanders typically do not take to. A general feeling of disoriented drowsiness stretches from one neighbour's wet window to the other's, for what is there to keep an islander occupied during a storm? Adults are fond of their front porches and of the beach; children the same. Adults, they are far too accustomed to their rituals to find enjoyment in other places, and they aimlessly take to tasks otherwise left blissfully ignored; paying bills, calling parents-in-law, or cleaning the house.

Children, however, are filled with fantasy and wonder and (for the most part) have no such concerns as the adults do. They are too young yet to retire to custom, and they see the storm as an opportunity to explore exciting new things. It is simply the little push they needed to stop blitzball and swordfighting for a while and find new activities.

Unfortunately, 'girls' also happen to be part of 'children.' This leaves young boys at the mercy of their pretty, prematurely flirty friends, rather than giving them time to crawl to the red-headed boy's foosball table, or to the blonde-headed surfer boy's PlayStation.

The red-headed girl with the prettiest blue eyes is currently indulging her friends in an 'awesome' idea. Awesome to her and to her brunette friend, but awful to the reluctant, newly-taciturn boys.

"Come on, guys," she goads, a slighty sharp look of hope in her eyes. "I just want to see what it's like."

The red-haired boy and the blonde boy watch silently, dreading and anticipating the answers of their two friends. If their friends say yes, these two might be subjected to much of the same - and how horrible it would be, should the awkward red-head accidentally admit his feelings for the blonde, or the blonde unintentionally let it be known that he is very much attracted to one so clumsy and oh-so-very _male!_

The silver-haired boy is never one to back down from a challenge, from anyone. The brunet is put off and confused by the request, but will easily be convinced not to back down from a challenge, from anyone, certainly and especially when his handsome friend is involved.

"I don't really care. If Sora is alright with it, I guess it's fine," the silver-haired one speaks, keeping his composure steady and cool. Oh, how the other three boys admire that quality. Secretly, they wish they could act like that no matter what the situation. Oh, how the two girls want to laugh at that quality. Secretly, they want to see him try to act like that when they push him into public in a skirt. This will happen one of these days, they are planning with certainty. But for now, to the matter at hand...

The brown-haired boy folds his arms across his thin chest and leans back haughtily, displaying the garden-variety confidence that seems somewhat frailer than that of his friend.

"Whatever. I'm not a chicken," he replies cooly, as if his lack of poultry-esque traits automatically justifies his agreement to this deal. Surprisingly, none are envisioning poultry at this sentiment, though the brown-haired girl in the yellow sundress decides it might be nice to dress him up as one someday. But again, to the matter at hand...

"Great!" The red-haired girl claps her hands together and reaches to her close right for two worn sheets of paper. She hands one to each boy. They accept and look them over.

"Wow," the silver-haired one speaks after a moment. "You're awfully perverted."

The brunet remains unspeaking, simply reading over what he has been given with a look that might either be interpreted as disgust or perplexity.

"Come on." The red-haired girl smiles sweetly, squeezing the brunet's shoulder and giving him a look. "I'll have my mom make some cupcakes."

"Tonight?" The blonde boy interrupts, excitedly. The red-headed boy makes a sarcastic face, secretly endeared to the blonde boy's sweet tooth.

"You're always lookin' for sweets, brudda," the red-headed boy says, and the blonde boy returns him an equally sarcastic face, if only to hide the comfort the red-head's voice gives him during the rather scary storm.

The brown-haired girl in the yellow sundress watches the two of them knowingly while the male brunet is reluctantly giving in to his friend's offer.

"Well, Sora?" The elder of the two boys in question looks up with those redundantly water-coloured-aqua pretty-boy eyes, and the brunet looks back at him with eyes that are not so much (to the silver-haired boy) sky-blue orbs or pools, but more like obese blueberries. If obesity could be attributed to fruit, or to eyes. His friend has really large eyes, the silver-haired boy notes.

The brunet shrugs, cutting short his friend's mental wanderings. "Well what? You wanna get this over with and get our cupcakes?" As if his lack of sugar-filled morsels automatically justifies that he seems too eager to finish this deal. Perhaps it should be pointed out that the red-haired girl's mom, being an adult, is currently paying bills or calling parents-in-law or cleaning the house, and will not be making cupcakes anytime soon. Incidentally, cupcakes are not on any of the children's mind right now.

"Fine," the silver-haired boy agrees shortly.

The other two boys watch in wonderment, wondering if they will ever get such an opportunity to test their feelings, too. Well, they certainly can never ask. That would be dangerous and far too honest.

"Alright, just do what it says on the script." The red-haired girl's eyes are shining excitedly, though whether or not she truly expects any sparks to fly remains to be known. It should be recognized that the mind of a boy-on-boy fan tends to lack the desire for logical consequences. "One, two..."

The brown-haired boy and his silver-haired friend are looking down at their pages, prepared for a dreadfully awkward and generally humiliating experience. But the silver-haired one is not prepared for a loss, and the brunet is not prepared for a loss, either. It technically should also be said that the blonde is not prepared for a lack of sweets, and the red-headed boy is not prepared for any look of sadness on his secret darling's face due to lack of sweets, though neither of them really ever count as much more than a sideplot, anyway. For lack of a tactful way to make it up to said boys, let the topic be quite subtly moved to the fact that, more importantly, not one of the males in this room is prepared for the massively destructive reciprocations of denying the females' request any longer.

"Action!"

The silver-haired teen scoots to the middle of their circle of people, closer to the brunet. "Sora."

The brunet smiles shyly, trying his best to stutter at the intense look in his friend's eye, though he may not even have to pretend.

"R...Riku?"

"You know, you really look cute when you blush." Aqua eyes glance down to the page quickly before looking back up, holding a secretive smile. Slowly, his hand strays over to his younger friend's knee, and he leans intimately closer. Their onlookers watch with apparent interest.

"Riku..." the brunet squeaks, a very well-practiced (or quite real?) blush tingeing his cheeks. "..Wh..What are you saying?"

The older of the two actors smiles seductively and lifts his other hand to hold the side of his friend's face. He chuckles in a low voice, eerily to the onlookers for this chuckle is the same one they hear often in the course of real life. They want to believe both that this little scene is reality and that it's some absurd joke. After all, the blonde and red-headed boys think sadly, it should not be fair for another homosexual boy to find perfect love right before them when they, themselves, could not.

"I'm saying that I can't stand seeing you around that girl, Sora," the silver-haired-boy says huskily, even looking to the red-haired girl though the action was not on his script. She only lowers her head intentionally and smiles at her boy-on-boy plaything.

The brown-haired boy closes his eyes in a peaceful expression. "Why?" he breathes.

"Because." The whispered response. The pitter-patter of rain and the crash of thunder are heard outside.

"...Because why?" Blue eyes open to meet those of his companion's, and each boy is surprised by the level of uneasiness he sees in his friend's stare. But, wait; the silver-haired one is always confident and the brunet knows not the meaning of shame! Alas, they have no time to contemplate this anomaly. The ridiculous skit has to be seen through.

"Sora," The older teen lifts his other hand from the brunet's leg and brings it up to hold his other cheek. "Don't you understand?"

"I don't, Riku." He shuts his eyes, nervously. "Tell me..." his voice lowers dramatically. "Please."

"I will." Their foreheads touch. "Sora, I...I love you. I always have."

The brunet's big blueberry eyes swell to morbidly obese. Such shock. No, the older teen screams in his head, panicking. Don't take my words so seriously!

"Ri-"

This was not supposed to be his cue, but he decides to make it so. The silver-haired boy grips his friend's face tighter and pushes their lips together.

There seems to be an all-around agreement not to breathe, the blonde boy notices idly, though he is mostly occupied with watching two boys kiss. Oh, such woe, and such unkind luck! His fears are confirmed when he notices that a certain other part of him is simply firm. He tries to imagine himself with the red-head like that, but it doesn't work so well. The red-headed boy is just too much better-looking than either of the other two, at least to him. Inwardly, he sighs, and so does the red-head.

Back to the ones who actually matter, there seems to be an air of stagnant electricity around them and especially near their lips, where they are touching. Stagnant electricity, the older of the two thinks off-handedly, wondering what such a thing would look like. No, though; something like that doesn't seem to fit this just right. Electricity moves. They are not moving. Not one bit. They seem frozen in place, as does their audience. Maybe time has stopped. Perhaps it feels merciful and will rewind itself so that he may reconsider his decision to go through with this. As it turn out, this is quite troublesome. Whatever for, exactly, still remains to be known.

The brunet finally pulls away, after a time. So does the older friend, who seems to realize he'd been getting carried away, though not in the way that a boy-on-boy fan would likely want. The two boys look at their red-haired female friend expectantly.

"...Riku, you kissed him too early."

The silver-haired one shrugs nonchalantly. Secretly, the brunet is thankful that his friend ignored the script. The elder of them (maybe even deliberately) has saved the brunet from having to say the same words back, and, unknowingly to the brunet, he has also saved himself from having to hear the words 'I love you too' from his best friend - one of the few things (besides perhaps wearing a skirt in public) that would have made him lose his cool stability. He is not sure what he would have done if that happened. Who really would be?

"Alrighhhhhht, fine." The red-haired girl shrugs and then grins at them. "Good job. You hardly needed the scripts at all."

The silver-haired teen smiles tolerantly and somewhat disingenuously, scooting back to his place in their circle. "That's because it was so cliché."

She sticks her tongue out at him, and the girl in the yellow sundress giggles in delight, looking at the still-silent brunet. "How'd it feel, Sora?"

He looks at her and makes a face, not noticing how the aqua eyes of his male friend are watching him curiously from across the circle.

"Freaking gross," he spits out. The silver-haired one narrows his eyes in understanding and he chuckles, smiling as his brunet friend looks back at him. The older teen then makes a show of vigorously wiping his own mouth with the back of his hand. He is displaying agreement to the statement, just in case the spiky-haired brunet doubts him.

The red-haired boy and the blonde boy watch the two for a moment, unsure, before they begin a conversation amongst themselves about blitzball or something equally inconsequential. It should be known that neither one is daring enough to talk about what they just saw, or how they'd like to try it sometime, as well - with each other, even. Maybe they'll get it someday, though it's truly doubtful.

The other two girls decide their boy-on-boy show was immensely more boring than they would have wanted, though really, what could they have expected? They launch into a loud and annoying discussion about the clothes they're wearing and what they'd much rather have on.

The moment of intensity looks to have passed, for the nervousness has deceived the others into thinking it has dissipated. The brunet and silver-haired males are still deeply affected by their encounter, though what sort of example would they be setting for other boys by being honest? Instead, they quietly listen to whatever conversation is nearest their ears, each one forcing himself to swallow the dryness in his throat and act as natural as he can. Neither notices the other's discomfort, because neither dares to look and see the fear of realization swimming in the blueberry eyes of the younger friend or the bewilderment smothering the aqua stare of the elder.

Each one, ignorantly fooled by his friend's reaction, has discovered what is either a small or large secret about himself.

One cold, storming afternoon finds the Destiny Islanders indoors, a place islanders typically do not take to. A general feeling of saddened loss stretches from one boy to the other, for what happiness can be found in cupcakes for a brunet having on his tongue the unmistakable aftertaste of a cowardly lie, or for the silver-haired friend curling his hand into carpet and dazedly wishing he'd been brave enough to leave his mouth unwiped?

* * *

_Mostly what I was trying to convey was the sad, oft unconsummated and delicately painful reality of a young homosexual attraction, though my stupid humor might have killed the mood at times._

_Hope you enjoyed, though personally, this sort of fic usually just pisses me off..._


End file.
